


glory turned ordinary

by peterparkr



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Character Study, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Spider-Man: Homecoming, Tony Stark Has Issues, Whumptober 2019, i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-27
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-10-29 02:50:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20789378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peterparkr/pseuds/peterparkr
Summary: Five times Peter sees through Tony's facade, and one time he says something about it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Whumptober 2019 Day 1: Shaky hands 
> 
> Also, check out Countdowns by Sleeping At Last. I find it to be a very Tony song!!

“The Avengers are giving a press conference today,” Mr. Harrington says. “As this pertains to our recent discussion about the Accords, we’re going to watch it.”

The class starts to shift and whisper in excitement. A whole period filled with dimmed lights and video—Mr. Harrington won’t be able to see who’s nodding off, they can lounge back and not get called out. It’s every student’s dream.

Ned elbows Peter. “Shouldn’t you be there?”

“Huh?”

“At the press conference, since you're an Avenger!”

Ned is talking far too loud for the subject matter. Peter glances around warily, but the rest of the class is preoccupied with their own conversations.

“I told you, man, I turned down the offer to go full-time.”

“But don’t the Accords affect part-time heroes, too?”

The question gives Peter pause. He hasn’t really thought about how the new laws regarding enhanced beings might affect him. He’s had other things on his mind—the homecoming fiasco, May finding out, the big calc final. 

Tony would tell him if anything major was going to happen.

Peter’s saved from having to answer Ned by Mr. Harrington finally managing to get the livestream up. The conference hasn’t officially started, so all the screen shows is a panel of empty chairs while some moderator explains what will be discussed.

Chaotic shouting erupts from the speakers as Vision floats into the camera’s view. He doesn’t so much as glance up, just takes a seat and stares down at the table. 

Rhodey enters the frame next, moving slowly. Peter can’t hear it over the camera flashes and the garbled questions of the reporters, but he knows that the braces are whirring as they work hard to keep Rhodey upright. It’s a remarkable improvement from the first time Peter had seen him walk in them—a testament to Tony’s non-stop efforts.

And there he is—hovering close enough behind Rhodey to intervene if anything goes wrong, but far enough that it’s not overtly noticeable. He flashes a grin towards the crowd before pulling out Rhodey’s chair.

“Let it never be said that I’m not a complete gentlemen,” Tony shouts over the ruckus.

It gets a few laughs, from both the reporters and the students in Peter’s class, and an eye-roll from Rhodey, but his lips are upturned as well—all fond exasperation.

Tony takes his seat and the room quiets. The sudden silence throws Peter off, and he realizes that he was waiting for more people to file into the room. He remembers watching Avengers press conferences when he was a kid, filled with a full team—the original six. Their combined personalities—all large and often clashing—had filled the room with energy. Now, it’s a bit sad to see three tired-looking men sitting at a table. 

Tony must notice the same thing, or maybe he’d known all along what he was getting into and planned for it, because he claps his hands together and rubs them against each other, plastering a cocky half-smile onto his face.

He leans forward toward the microphone. “There have been questions over the last few months, about the Accords and the events surrounding them—rightfully so, as we’ve all been lying fairly low. So without further ado, let’s get into some of the specifics.”

Peter can’t help but admire the way that Tony commands the attention of the room. It’s still not quite the same as it would have been with a full team there, but he’s loud and charming, slapping Rhodey on the back and gesturing to Vision, throwing in the occasional inappropriate joke and then masking it with a faux-innocent expression. Rhodey holds his own as well, albeit with a slightly more stilted demeanor than Tony appears to have. Vision barely speaks.

The details are nothing that Peter doesn’t already know. He’s relieved that there’s no new information to suggest that he might have to answer to the Accords in some strange way. 

They move on to questions. It’s obvious that Vision tenses as soon as the mic is passed to a reporter. Rhodey and Tony remain carefully relaxed, but Peter can tell from the slight twitch of Tony’s cheek as Rhodey looks over at him that they’re not excited for the upcoming part of the conference. 

It seems to go smoothly and becomes almost boring to watch as they talk about the jurisdiction of different countries and who has control over an American hero on foreign soil and all of the other nitty gritty details. Someone throws in a question about the not-yet-born Stark baby, who’s existence had been announced by Pepper a few weeks back, which wins a genuine smile from Tony. Peter’s lulled into a false sense of calm, eyelids fluttering shut.

Until, “Is no one going to bring up Captain America?”

Someone shouts it, cutting Tony off mid-sentence. He stares in the direction of the sound with his jaw set. Peter feels his whole body go rigid and he’s not even in the conference room. 

Memories surface—videos of Tony on the news, reciting his address to terrorists, then of his Malibu mansion exploding next to pictures of Tony’s face with the words ‘presumed dead’ under it. Then later, of the first time he’d hung out with Tony in a non-avenging capacity. He’d been vibrating with excitement in the backseat of Happy’s car on the way there.

“Word of advice,” Happy had said. “Don’t bring up the Germany thing.”

And so Peter never had, and he’d never heard Tony talk about it. He’s terrified of what reaction might occur, now. 

“Sir, please wait to be called on before asking your question,” the moderator says.

“No, let him speak.” The words are stated, deadly calm.

Peter’s classmates start to buzz in anticipation.

“Oh shit, Iron Man’s going to kill that guy!” Flash yells.

The class erupts in laughter as Mr. Harrington scolds Flash’s language and tries to settle the room down.

Peter feels like he’s going to throw up.

Rhodey leans over and cups a hand around Tony’s ear, but Tony just waves him off and Rhodey pulls away from him with an inaudible sigh.

Tony licks his lips and raises his eyebrows at the man in question. It’s almost a challenge, daring him to speak.

The reporter rises to it. “Why aren’t the other Avengers here to state their case against the Accords? Do you know Steve Roger’s exact stance? Do you believe that the government’s decision to cast out the other Avengers was premature? Is Steve Rogers a threat?”

Peter feels his heart galloping uncomfortably in his chest, but the Tony on the screen is the perfect embodiment of calm, his mouth a closed straight line and eyes void of any emotion. He lets the questions hang in the air for a few seconds. Cameras shutter and flash rapidly as he leans forward in his seat. 

“Well,” he says and Peter holds his breath with what feels like the whole world. “You answered one question with another. The other Avengers aren’t here  _ because _ of the government’s decisions to ‘cast them out’, as you said.”

Snickers fill the room and Peter feels the knots in his shoulders start to untangle.

“Ol’ Steve and I aren’t exactly on speaking terms at the moment—I’m pretty sure I’m the last person he’d tell about any...threatening plans. It’s a bit of a disappointing question honestly, darling, our falling out was quite public.”

Tony smirks directly into the camera. It pans to the pissed off reporter, who’d clearly been looking to get more of a rise out of Tony. 

“On a serious note, mistakes were made on both sides, and with any luck we’ll amend the Accords, give our wayward “war criminals”,” he says, with air quotes on the last words, “a slap on the wrist followed by a pardon. And then everything will go back to normal. Does that sound good to everyone?”

There’s a chorus of affirmatives and a few cheers. Tony grins and reaches for the glass of water in front of him. Peter’s eyes track the motion, and to his surprise the hand shakes uncontrollably. It doesn’t even get to the glass before Tony balls it into a fist.

Peter can’t stop staring at it as it continues to tremble. Tony flexes it, two quick flashes of his fingers back and forth before tucking it underneath the table. The only other person who seems to notice is Rhodey, who bumps Tony’s shoulder with his own. Tony turns the bright grin on him. Rhodey mirrors it until Tony turns back away and he purses his lips instead, watching Tony with concern.

“I can’t believe you know him, dude,” Ned says. “That was so badass. He was so cool and calm and like, collected, you know? Nothing phases him.”

Peter nods, not looking away from the screen. It was badass, but he doesn’t think the rest of Ned’s words are true at all.


	2. Chapter 2

The whole situation was stupid and avoidable and not a Big Deal at all. Peter should have been paying attention. Of course there would be helicopters scoping out the latest disaster to hit New York, it’s the best way for news channels to get footage. He should really practice using his spidey sense because the approach of thinking  _ oh no something bad is about to happen _ and then simply waiting for it to happen isn’t cutting it. But, still, it’s not a big deal. The helicopter blade didn’t hit him that hard.

Or maybe it did, Peter doesn’t remember it—or the long fall afterward. And sure, he can’t exactly lift his head without the whole world spinning and a bout of nausea, but that’s a classic concussion. He’s had one before and he’ll have one again and the effects will be gone within 24 hours every time because he heals fast. For now, he’ll just lay here in the nice little dent his plummeting body had created in the sidewalk and wait for some of that healing to start.

He wraps his arm around his stomach and lets his eyes fall shut.

“Peter,” Karen says. “I would advise against sleeping. My scans show a major concussion along with several broken bones and other minor injuries. Mr. Stark has been alerted and is on his way.”

“No, K’ren,” Peter slurs. “Shouldn’t’a told him.”

“You know the protocol, Peter. Please stay awake.”

Peter tries, but it’s harder than it seems. It’s a battle with his eyelids, they seem to grow heavier by the second, and he just can’t compete with that. They’re too strong.

“Jesus—fuck.” Peter knows that voice, but it’s usually not so frantic. “Shit—oh my—fuck!”

It’s enough to allow him to gain some leverage over his eyelids. The Iron Man suit looms above him, with the faceplate snapped up. Tony’s eyes are wide and darting back and forth over Peter’s body.

“Heyyy,” Peter mumbles. “Not ‘posed to cuss in front of me.”

Tony’s shoulders sag, even with the suit around them to keep them up. “Oh—you’re alive. Oh my—yes Fri, I know you said he was, but look at him—Jesus Christ.”

The suit opens up and Tony staggers out of it, crouching down next to Peter, who blinks up at him. It’s difficult to focus on his face, it’s hazy and swims a little, contorting the outline. The image is almost humorous with the way it makes Tony’s nose stick out a little too far, or the top of his head wider like a stereotypical alien. Peter’s aware enough to know that now isn’t the time to laugh though. Tony has his most serious expression on.

“Talk to me, kid. Stay awake. We’ve got a medical team on the way.”

The franticness is gone now, replaced by steady and calm. It’s good, Peter latches onto it.

“‘M good, just gotta sleep it off.”

“No sleep, remember?”

Tony’s hands come up over Peter’s body, lingering over one of his legs, which Peter’s just now realizing  _ hurts  _ significantly more than the general pain that’s everywhere. He glances down and sees that it’s splayed at an unnatural angle. There’s a lot of blood, and something, that might be a bone, possibly his femur, sticking out. Peter gulps down the wave of dizziness that the sight causes and goes back to focusing on Tony.

His hands come up closer to Peter’s face. They’re shaking, the motion is even more violent up close than it had looked on the screen that day in class. It takes a few tries for Tony to get a good grip on Peter’s mask, his hands keep fluttering away, but he finally does and pulls the material off and throws it to the side. 

Tony curses again, and touches Peter’s temple. His hand comes away bloody, and he stares at it with a haunted expression. Peter can’t stop looking at it either, as the tremors running through it send splatters of blood dripping onto Peter’s chest. 

“You’re going to be fine,” Tony says.

The words are remarkably calm, in stark contrast to his hands which tell Peter that maybe this is kind of a big deal after all.

  
  
  


It’s hours later, Peter’s not quite sure how many might have passed, when he wakes up in the compound’s medbay. The room isn’t unfamiliar. There have been quite a few incidents that have landed him here since getting involved with the Avengers.

“You’re up earlier than expected, as usual.” It’s true, Peter’s metabolism works wonders. “Maybe I’ll just have this room named after you—you’re here often enough—I’ll have a plaque made and everything.”

Peter laughs and then groans, adding broken ribs, probably more like bruised, by now, to the list of injuries that he sustained.

“A helicopter? Seriously? I can’t even be that mad at you because what the hell was it doing flying that low?” Tony narrows his eyes at Peter. “Then again, I can be mad because I specifically told you to focus on evacuating people once the rest of the team got there. You weren’t evacuating anyone from up there.”

Peter averts his eyes. He’d been trying to help. The team had seemed so small. The press conference is still in his head. 

“The footage, Pete, Jesus, the blades spun you around and smacked you out of the sky.”

“You must have laughed, be honest.”

Tony’s face goes blank for a moment before he breaks into a smile. “Guilty.”

His expression reminds Peter of the flashy grins from the press conference. Peter’s gaze subconsciously floats to his hands. They seem steady, but it’s hard to tell with the way they’re lying flat against his knees. Maybe he’d imagined it. He had been pretty out of it after he fell. The press conference could have been a one time thing.

Tony notices the mood shift and he lightly hits Peter’s shoulder. “Hey, you can’t actually be mad at me for laughing.”

Peter’s not mad (and he doesn’t believe that Tony laughed at all), but the real reason for his sour expression is harder to explain. And he doesn’t think that Tony would appreciate it if Peter managed to get the message across, so he just shrugs.

“Come on, I’ll show you. Fri, pull up the video.”

The AI does as she’s told, and soon Peter and Tony are doubled over with laughter as they fall down a rabbit-hole of remix after remix of Spider-Man’s latest blunder. It makes Peter’s ribs ache and his head pound, but it’s worth it. His favorite is his spinning body rolling down a bowling alley to Wii music. Tony’s is the helicopter blade slamming into Peter’s head over and over as  _ Hollaback Girl  _ plays in the background. 

The more serious things are forgotten.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was supposed to post the last chapter today, but uh life happens! Happy whumptober everyone!!!

It’s Peter’s weekend to stay at the compound. He goes about once a month to work on suit updates or train. It used to be Happy driving the car, but nowadays Tony is usually the one who picks him up after school. 

Tony rolls down his window slowly when he sees Peter and MJ walk out of the building. He leans out of the car, elbow resting on the door, sunglasses perched on the edge of his nose. He always likes to put on a show in front of the other students. It’s both awesome and humiliating.

“Peter! This must be the lovely Michelle Jones.” Tony’s eyes dance with mischief. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

MJ grins and turns to Peter. “He has?”

“No—”

“I have,” Tony confirms. “Rumor has it, you’re equal parts brilliant and terrifying. Not my words.”

Peter feels his cheeks heat up. He’s glad he can’t see how red he is. He runs around to the passenger side of the car, to make a quick escape, but the door doesn’t open when he pulls on the handle. He pulls again, harder, almost breaking it off.

_ Say goodbye first, _ Tony mouths, nodding at MJ.

“Erm—bye MJ, see you on Monday.”

She laughs. “Bye, Parker.”

“Unless,” Tony says. “You two could hang out this weekend, there’s a movie theater in the tower somewhere, I forget which floor, but FRIDAY will know.”

“It’s the floor just below the penthouse, boss.”

“Ah! The floor just below the penthouse! Perfect!”

“Mr. Stark,” Peter hisses. “Open the door, or I will break it.”

“Thanks Iron Dude, but I’d rather not have our first date in a tower that could have served as a clean power source for the whole city  _ or _ at least used some of its rooms to house the population of homeless people, but instead serves as the playground for a billionaire and his super-human friends.”

“Oh,” Tony says as MJ walks away with a little wave. “Terrifying—I get that now.”

“Did she say date?”

“You know, I tried to power the whole city—they wouldn’t let me! It was against code or something. The homeless thing though—”

“Did she say  _ date? _ ”

  
  
  


They stop for Peter’s second lunch on the way to the tower because Tony claims he hasn’t eaten yet today and Peter never turns down the opportunity for another meal. Peter fishes his wallet out of his backpack, and then he and Tony do the usual dance about money—Peter insisting he can afford lunch and Tony arguing that he’s a  _ billionaire, for god’s sake, Pete _ until Tony threatens to take away the suit again unless Peter leaves his wallet in the car.

Before the food even arrives, Tony has already started the process of converting a floor of the tower into a homeless shelter. FRIDAY has a holographic outline of the floorplan projecting out of Tony’s phone. 

“I could put her name on it—the ‘Michelle Jones Shelter’ or something. Think she’d like that?”

“Honestly, I think she’d hate that.”

Tony’s eyebrows knit together. “Huh. Well—”

Whatever he was going to say is cut off by his phone ringing. He picks it up with a smile that falls quickly.

“What?” His voice is low and hollow.

Peter sits up straighter in his chair. That doesn’t sound good. He’s sure that Tony has a suit on him, or that one can be here in a few minutes if it’s needed. Peter’s suit is in his backpack in the car.

“Is—it’s early. Is she okay?”

Peter lets himself scrunch back down into a relaxed expression. It’s not the end of the world. It’s Pepper. Suddenly, he’s bouncing in his seat with excitement. The baby is coming.

“Okay, we’ll be there soon. Leaving now.”

Peter’s eyes widen at the use of ‘we’ rather than ‘I’. He’s going to get to see the baby, on the day it’s born. It’s an honor.

Instead of leaving as he had said, Tony remains in his seat, staring down at the table.

Maybe it wasn’t all good news on the phone. It is early. The due date is still a little over a month out. “Mr. Stark? Is everything okay?”

Some of the haziness over Tony’s eyes clears up as he fixes Peter with a forced smile. “Yeah, Pep’s on her way to the hospital. You might have to skip second lunch.”

“That’s fine—you’re about to have a baby!” Peter leaps to his feet, but Tony still doesn’t get up.

Peter doesn’t get it. Tony’s not the stereotypical sitcom father who wants no part of having a kid. He’d pestered Pepper endlessly about it before they got pregnant, and since, he’s been counting down the weeks, building cribs and playpens, mobiles and toys. It doesn’t make sense for him to be just  _ sitting _ now, with an expression that’s pseudo-blank, tension simmering just beneath the surface. Peter knows about cold feet at weddings, but he didn’t think you could get that for a baby. And if that is a thing that happens, surely that wouldn’t happen to Tony.

“Mr. Stark?” Peter prompts again. “Are we going to go?”

“It’s early,” Tony says. “I was a preemie, too. My dad was away on business.”

Another conversation floats into Peter’s mind—from back when he and Tony weren’t as close as they are now. 

_ My dad never really gave me a lot of support and I’m trying to break the cycle of shame. _

“Mr. Stark,” Peter says. “You’re going to be a great dad.”

Tony laughs and Peter hates the way it sounds—cynical and dry. “Sure, kid. Thanks.”

“I mean it!”

“Even with that big brain of yours, you can’t predict the future.”

Peter thinks of all the things that Tony has done for him. From the suit, to the rescues, to the lab time. But it’s more than that. There are the texts to check up on him and impromptu weekend activities and teasing him in front of his crush. He’d thought it was just going to be him and May after Ben died, but Tony’s managed to fill some of the void there.

“I don’t have to,” Peter says.

Tony’s face does the complicated series of twitches that it always does when he doesn’t want to show that he’s feeling an emotion, before it settles into a smile. He stands and lays an arm over Peter’s shoulders, leading him towards the car.

Peter doesn’t notice the shaking until Tony tries to put the key into the ignition. Tony glances towards Peter when he fails to get it in on the first try. Peter pretends to be busy looking through his backpack for something. He doesn’t look up until the car starts.

Then, they’re at the hospital, and Peter’s in the waiting room with Tony’s family. Between Happy’s nervous chattering, and May’s tearful account of being in a waiting room just like this the day Peter was born, it’s too hectic for Peter to think of anything else except the baby. Even Rhodey starts to get emotional, recounting stories of Tony’s college days and wondering how they got to be so old.

And then the door bursts open and Tony beams at them, hair sticking up at all different angles, suggesting that he’d run his hand through it countless times in the last few hours. He gestures them towards him.

  
The next thing Peter knows, Tony’s holding Baby Stark— _ Morgan _ —towards him and Peter swears his enhanced ears pick up Tony mumbling  _ meet your big brother _ to her, but it could have been his imagination.


	4. Chapter 4

“Pete? You with me? Focus up.”

It takes him a second to follow Tony’s voice. His vision flits over their surroundings, the hazy edges of red rock, the wavy illusion of water in the distance, the cloudless sky above. It feels like he’s being smothered by the oppressive weight of the heat. He blinks to clear all of the fuzziness and finally finds Tony’s face, dripping with sweat and lined with concern.

“I’m fine.” Peter pants after the words. “S’just hot.”

Tony grunts in agreement and grips his chin to make Peter look him in the eyes. He must not like what he finds there because his hand moves first to Peter’s head, frowning once he gauges his temperature, and then down to Peter’s neck, searching for his pulse. Peter zones out, tracking a bead of sweat down the edge of Tony’s face.

Tony’s mouth twitches and he starts tapping his glasses, groaning in frustration. They’re pretty beat up from the crash. The glass is bulletproof, Peter knows that, but the internal structure could have been compromised. 

“C’mon, Fri,” Tony mutters. “Please, girl.”

Tony waits for a few seconds before ripping the glasses off his face and stuffing them in his shirt pocket. He doesn’t have to say it out loud for Peter to understand that they don’t have any help from the AI.

“Where are we?”

Peter doesn’t know much about the geography. He can point out New York and the surrounding states, Florida, California, but everything in the middle is a mystery. This feels like the middle. 

Tony sighs and rubs a hand over his face. “Nevada, Utah, I don’t know. We crashed, remember?”

Of course he remembers. He’s not that out of it. Something hit the quinjet. Alarms were blaring, the aircraft shuddering and pitching in different directions in the sky. It had been chaos. Tony didn’t have a suit on him, or the nanotech compartment. It was supposed to be a new chapter of his life—with less obsessive planning and paranoia and more stay-at-home dad and domestic bliss.

It’s Peter’s fault that they were even up there in the first place. Tony had taken him to tour a few schools in California to prove that MIT is the best option.

“Gotta get you out of the sun. And water would be good.” Tony mumbles, more to himself than to Peter. “Never going anywhere without a goddamn suit again.”

Peter sighs. That’s his fault, too. He’s going to be the reason Tony can’t keep his promise to Pepper to lay off the superhero stuff for a while. 

They keep walking—it feels like forever, just Peter and the sun and sometimes Tony’s worried eyes, and occasional words. They aren’t meant for Peter, but he catches snippets about thermo-regulation and heat exhaustion and rescue teams. Later, he’ll gloat about it to prove to Tony that he does indeed talk to himself, but for now Peter just focuses on staying upright and moving forward. 

Tony comes to an abrupt halt. Peter follows his line of sight to a gap in the side of the rocky slope next to them. Tony glances between it and Peter a few times before setting his jaw.

“This’ll have to do,” he mutters, gripping Peter’s arm and dragging him towards it.

Tony lingers by the mouth of the cave, and Peter follows his example. It’s shady, which is nice, but it doesn’t feel much cooler than out in the open.

“It’ll be colder farther back,” Tony whispers. 

He starts edging into the cave. His obvious reluctance makes Peter anxious. It’s dark. Anything could be back there.

Instead of a mountain lion or bear, a small pool awaits them. It’s almost too good to be true. Peter pulls his shirt over his head and kneels by the pond, splashing the water on his face and body, and then leans back against the cool stone. It’s paradise compared to the heat outside. He closes his eyes.

The silence is what clues him in. There’s no splashing of Tony soaking in the cool water, no tinkering sounds as he attempts to fix the glasses, or plans on how to contact the team.

Peter opens his eyes and eases his back off the ground. Nothing overt appears to be wrong in the scene before him. The water is still and the cave is empty aside from the two of them. Tony sits a few feet away, chin resting on his knees.

And therein lies the problem because Tony shouldn’t be sitting there, wrapped in on himself, as if to take up less space, or maybe to hold himself together. He stares straight ahead, at nothing, eyes wide and haunted.

Tony must feel the weight of Peter’s eyes on him, because his head turns. A lop-sided grin finds its way onto his lips.

“Better?” 

It is better. Nothing in the cave is fuzzy like it was in the desert. He doesn’t feel like his heart is beating over-time to try to mitigate the effects of the temperature. Any other time he would tell Tony as much and they would move on with a plan, but right now the question seems wrong coming out of Tony’s mouth. Peter should be the one asking. 

He doesn’t say anything about it, just nods and tells himself it’s out of respect to Tony’s privacy, but a bigger part of him recognizes that it’s more cowardice on his part.

Tony nods back, sharp and jerky before angling himself away from Peter. It does nothing to hide the fact that he’s trembling. Peter can’t look away, even though he hates the sight more than anything else he’s seen—and he’s seen a lot of gruesome, horrifying things. Tony had always seemed untouchable, in the news, in the suit. He’d always seemed unaffected, or if he was, his only emotion was righteous anger. Since the press conference, Peter’s starting to realize that there’s more there, maybe there always had been and he and the rest of the world had never noticed. 

It takes him some time to parse out what’s currently bothering Tony, and when he finally does trace it back, he’s stunned into inaction for a few more seconds. They’re in a cave, in a desert. It’s too similar to Afghanistan.

“I sort of liked CalTech,” Peter blurts.

Tony’s breathes have escalated to quick gasps—Peter can hear them, he can see his shoulders rising and falling rapidly, Tony must  _ know _ that—he can’t think that Peter’s that unobservant. He takes two more before turning to Peter with a practiced ease. Peter can see why it tricks people, why it used to trick him. There’s barely any sign of strain—only a slight tightness around his eyes.

“What’s that, kid?”

“Cal Tech, I liked it. A lot.”

Tony goes still. Then his eyes widen before narrowing into slits. “ _ CalTech?  _ Jesus Christ.”

“What’s wrong with CalTech?”

“Nothing’s  _ wrong _ with it. There’s just—you can do so much better! If you insist on going west, there’s Stanford! Even UC Berkeley.” Tony waves his arms in the air, animated. Sufficiently distracted.

“I don’t know. I liked the vibes better.”

Tony’s mouth parts—in shock, but then more in disgust. “Vibes? You did not just say vibes.”

Peter launches into a summary of the spiel his advisor had given his class about choosing a college based off which fit their personality and energy rather than prestige. Tony starts shaking his head half way through and doesn’t stop until Peter comes up for air. When Peter tries to continue, Tony makes a flurry of hand-motions and nonsense syllables to cut him off and then starts advocating intensely for MIT. 

He’s still on it when Peter senses motion towards the mouth of the cave. His spidey sense is calm, so he knows it’s not a threat. Tony flinches when he notices it and a wave of guilt washes over Peter. He should have mentioned it before it caught Tony off-guard. 

“It’s Colonel Rhodes,” Peter whispers. He can already see the War Machine armor outline making its way towards them.

Tony’s shoulders relax from their position hitched up to his ears. 

“Took him long enough,” he mutters. “Honey bear!”

“Thank god,” Rhodey says, snapping his face plate up as he reaches their section of the cave. “The wreckage of the crash was nasty. I was afraid--”

“We’re fine,” Tony interrupts. “Pete needs air conditioning, but we’re fine.”

Rhodey studies Tony and then Peter and then Tony again.

Tony fidgets with impatience. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

Halfway through the walk to the helicopter sent to find them, Rhodey leans towards Tony, speaking in hushed tones. “You alright, man?”

Tony looks affronted by the question. He scoffs, slightly. “Always.”

Peter feels Rhodey watching him, trying to make eye contact, the whole flight back. He doesn’t look away from the window and he all but runs off the helicopter after it lands to avoid any questions he doesn’t know how to answer.


	5. Chapter 5

The rogue Avengers return as quickly as they left. One day, Peter’s sparring with Vision while Tony and Rhodey trash talk from the sidelines, the next, he walks into the compound to find more than three people standing in the main meeting room.

“Oh,” he says. 

The word sends too many pairs of eyes in his direction, most of them squinted and analyzing. He sometimes forgets that Rogers and Co. have no idea who Peter Parker is. He doesn’t know if he wants them to know. He doesn’t know if Tony wants them to know.

“Um.” He shifts his gaze from the new arrivals to Tony, who looks tense, and not just through the tells that Peter has managed to decipher in the months since the press conference. He’s sitting between Rhodey and Steve, his chair shifted noticeably closer to the former. His back is rigid, shoulders raised. He’s even got his most over-the-top pair sunglasses on—there’s more than one type of armor. 

He still gives Peter a bright smile.

“Son,” Steve starts. “This is official—”

“Yeah, no, don’t do that,” Tony interrupts and stands. “Hey, Pete.”

“Er, hey.” 

Tony walks around the conference table and puts his hands on his shoulders, steering Peter towards the door. 

“Tony.” Steve sighs. 

“Chill out. I’ll be back.”

Peter stares back at the rogues as Tony pushes him out the door. They look different than he remembers them at the airport. It’s not just Natasha’s hair color or Steve’s beard. There’s something else that Peter can’t quite name. Maybe it’s him that’s different. He doesn’t put them all on a pedestal anymore.

“This was—last minute,” Tony says. “I didn’t know they were coming until they showed up. Do you mind sitting tight for a little bit, and then we’ll take a look at your suit?”

Peter nods. “Yeah, sure. But, why are they here? Are they back for good?”

“I—“ Tony roles his shoulders. He looks strung-out—weary and on-guard. “I don’t know. That’s what we’re trying to figure out.”

He wanders over to the kitchen and grabs an apple, tossing it in his hand once, before throwing it to Peter. “Eat this. Then, go call your girlfriend. Or whatever you do in your spare time. How was school? Good? Good. I’ll try to make this quick.”

“She’s not my girlfriend!”

Tony opens the door to the meeting room and steps inside, before turning and sticking his head back out. “Seriously? Still? Didn’t I basically set you two up ages ago? It was the day Morgan was born and Morgan is four months old. Four months! Call MJ and ask her to be your girlfriend.”

He closes the door before Peter can get a word in, but he can still see the Avengers through the glass. They’re all watching him, with varying degrees of amusement. Rhodey and Vision shoot him thumbs-ups. The rest look confused, except Natasha, who’s unreadable.

Peter doesn’t call MJ. He settles down at the kitchen table instead. At first he thinks he’ll eavesdrop. If he concentrates, he can decipher the words coming from the conference room, but after he gathers the gist of what’s going on—Steve’s side is ready to come to a compromise—it’s  _ boring. _ A back and forth about who did what and the damages caused and what can be fixed. 

He lets their voices fade to a dull hum in the background and tries to do homework. He actually spends more time on his phone, or chatting with FRIDAY. Until the background buzz starts to rise in volume.

The door slams open, Tony rushing out in its wake, and propping it.

“Out,” he says.

Peter leaps up and hesitantly creeps toward the conference room so he can see inside. Tony sounded more angry in that one word than Peter has ever heard—and Peter’s been on the wrong end of Tony’s anger quite a few times. Even the ferry incident was nothing quite like this.

“It wasn’t really him—” Steve tries.

“We’re not discussing this.”

“Tony—”

Rhodey stands and glares at the room. “I think he asked for you all to leave. We can come back to this another day.”

“Where will we go? We’re criminals, right,” Wanda demands, eyes shining red.

“I would assume your rooms, if you can remember where they are,” Tony snaps back.

Her mouth closes immediately and she looks down at her hands, chastised. The red sparks there fade away.

“That’s very generous, Tony, thank you.” Natasha exits the room nodding for the others to follow her.

Steve pauses by Tony. He looks down and rubs the back of his neck before meeting his eyes, almost shyly.

“Tony, I’m—”

“Out.”

Steve bows his head and follows Natasha down a hallway. Wanda goes soon after, not looking at Tony as she passes him. Vision phases after her with a guilty grimace. 

Tony sags once they’re out of sight. Peter’s frozen—just far enough away that he’s not noticeable, but still where Tony could see if he looked in the right direction. He’s beginning to feel like he should have gone to his room, actually called MJ. He’s betraying Tony’s trust by watching this. If he backs away, the prolonged movement will just call attention to what he’s already seen.

“Tones,” Rhodey says, gentle and quiet.

Peter assumes it will be a mistake. Tony’s not the type of guy who likes to be handled with kid gloves.

“I can’t be here.”

“Okay. That’s okay.”

Tony rubs his hand over his face. 

“Go home, man. I’ll make sure they don’t pull any shit here.”

“They won’t.” It should be said with relief but all Peter detects is sorrow.

“You okay to drive?”

“Of course.”

“You taking Peter?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll go find him.”

Rhodey makes his way past Tony with a squeeze to his shoulder. His body shifts slightly and Peter just knows that he’s going to walk directly down the hallway that Peter is watching from.

He does the only thing he can think of. He leaps and attaches himself to the ceiling. Rhodey walks under him and he can barely hear his name being called over the sound of his heart pounding. He prays that FRIDAY will be a pal and not clue Rhodey in to his whereabouts until he makes it far away from the conference room.

He’s about to scuttle out of there, drop down in his bedroom or something, when he hears it. 

He looks back down at the conference room. Tony hasn’t moved, but his head is buried in his hands now. There are snuffling sounds—almost indistinct, but somehow echoing around the empty hallway. 

Peter can’t watch Tony cry.

He can’t look away.

He doesn’t have to endure it for long. Tony quickly straightens, sniffing once, and wiping under his eyes, before standing and sliding his sunglasses back on with shaking fingers.

Peter crawls away. He feels hollow, but simultaneously filled to the brim. There are too many emotions—all canceling each other out until all he has left is his stomach sinking low, low,  _ low. _

Tony greets him when he slides into the passenger seat of his newest Audi, gives him some half-assed excuse for why they’re going to work at the tower instead. Peter just nods. The rest of the ride is silent.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to give a massive thank you to everyone who read this along the way and gave kudos or commented!! I really hope that you all enjoy the last bit :))

Peter does research in his free time. It’s not heavy, school-paper worthy research, but he likes to learn—browse forums on topics and watch how-to videos. He’s curious about lots of things. Usually these things are computer hard drives or Star Wars or robotics, but lately the topics are more like PTSD and anxiety attacks.

It scares him. Every piece of information that he finds, whether revelatory or obvious comes into a new light when applied to someone he knows—someone like Tony Stark.

Some logical part of him knows that Tony’s okay. He’s almost certainly dealt with this for years. He knows how to handle himself, and he has people to help him. Pepper and Rhodey and Happy and now, Peter will try his best. 

But it still scares him. He doesn’t want to lose Tony physically or figuratively.

He’s kind of on high alert about it now—hyper aware of Tony’s actions and what it might or might not mean about how he’s feeling. It’s exhausting. 

It’s why one night at the tower, his body knows to stir when he senses movement. It’s why he gets out of bed and tiptoes down to the kitchen. It’s why the scene he finds feels like it crushes him into little pieces.

Tony’s standing there, gripping the table as if it’s the only thing keeping him upright. His head is bowed and eyes are closed. 

It’s not even the worst Peter’s seen him, but he seems so small, so vulnerable, like this—standing in the dark at 4 AM when he thinks no one is there.

“Are you okay?” His own voice sounds strangled.

Tony straightens mechanically and spins to Peter with a smile. 

“Midnight snack,” he says. “What are you doing up, Underoos?”

Peter hates that Tony hides it from him. He hates that he kind of prefers it that way because then maybe one day he’ll forget what he knows and he can go back to thinking that adults—especially superhero adults—are steady and put together and know all the answers. Then, there’s hope that maybe one day, he can be all of those things too. He can go back to not worrying about Tony because Tony’s invincible.

“It’s past midnight,” he says, and suddenly there’s a big lump rising up his throat and his cheeks feel wet. Even more embarrassing are the gulping sobs that join the tears. He can’t control them—doesn’t even know exactly why he’s crying.

Tony looks alarmed. He’s at Peter side in two steps.

“Hey, Pete, what’s wrong?”

Peter shakes his head and covers his face with his hands. It’s a useless action—trying to stop Tony from seeing what he already saw.

Tony gently pries the hands off and guides Peter to the nearby couch. 

“It’s alright,” Tony says, patting his shoulder a few times. His comfort is still kind of awkward, but it’s gotten less so since Morgan was born. “Talk to me, kid, you’re scaring me.”

“You’re scared a lot,” Peter manages to say, and it opens up the dam. “And stressed and anxious and sad. I see it. Your hands shake, did you know that?”

Tony freezes, hand hanging in the air above Peter’s shoulders. It takes a few seconds before he claps it down, and leaves it there.

“I did know that.” The words are slow, carefully chosen—uncharacteristic for Tony, who’s mouth usually goes as fast as his brain. “Didn’t know you did.”

Before Peter can come up with what to say to that, FRIDAY’s voice cuts through the room.

“Boss, Morgan’s awake.”

“Ah, the Real Baby Monitor Protocol.” Tony stands. “Don’t move, Pete.”

Peter fiddles with his hands until Tony re-emerges, Morgan tucked into his arms. She’s silent and content now, but her face is red in a way that suggests she hadn’t been when Tony got to her.

“Two crying kids in less than ten minutes,” he says. “That’s a record for me. I don’t know if it’s a good one.”

Peter stares down at the floor. “Sorry.”

“Nope, nope, that’s not how this was supposed to go.  _ I’m _ sorry.”

Peter glances up. Tony’s pinkie finger is outstretched for Morgan’s tiny hand to wrap around. He looks down at her as he speaks—it makes it easier, Peter thinks, a little less heavy.

“I thought that—hiding it, especially from you, was protecting you somehow. Because you shouldn’t have to deal with my problems. But, I think that actually made it worse. That’s my bad. Should have known you’d figure it out. It would have been better to talk about it first. We can do that now—if you want.”

Peter nods and Tony launches into his story, starting with Afghanistan and ending in the present—the facts are nothing that Peter hasn’t heard before, but the details are more personal and real. In his version of events, Tony’s less god, more human. He makes mistakes and he gets scared and he always seems to take the blame.

Tony trails off at the end, watching Peter nervously. “That’s about it. Yeah. Any questions?”

Peter shrugs. He has thousands and he has none. He kind of feels like he could cry again.

“You know, this is why they say not to meet your heroes,” Tony says.

It’s a joke. But also, it isn’t, because that’s what Tony thinks—that Peter’s disappointed in him somehow. It’s not that at all.

“I just wish—” Tony waits for Peter to continue. “I wish that I could change it. Make it better somehow.”

Tony smiles—a genuine one that crinkles around his eyes. 

“I don’t, well,” he backtracks slightly. “Of course in a perfect world. But, everything that’s happened has led me to this moment right here.”

Morgan gurgles and reaches for Tony’s face as if on cue. Tony waves at her and taps her nose.

“I wouldn’t trade any of it for the two of you. So in a way, kid, you’re already ‘making it better’, everyday. You make it all worth it.”

Peter swallows hard. It doesn’t feel like enough. He feels like there should be a solution that would alleviate the twisted fear in his gut and a utopia waiting on the other side. If even Tony doesn’t think that’s achievable, there’s no way that Peter can reach it. But maybe growing up is realizing that nothing’s perfect, but it can be okay anyway.

“Yinsen—the guy—“

“In Afghanistan,” Peter finishes, softly.

“Yeah. He—he said something to me in there. Asked me if I had a family. I didn’t. There were people who could’ve been, who tried to be—Pep, Rhodey, but I never really—“ Tony shrugs. “I was constantly surrounded by the most extravagant people and the most expensive things. But, I was alone, directionless. A man with everything and nothing, he said.”

“The point is, I have that now—a family. You’re part of it.” 

It’s said almost off-hand, like it’s obvious, a given, as if the words shouldn’t knock the air out of Peter. All he can do is stare.

“I’m okay, better than that. I have everything I never dreamed I could have.” He strokes a hand along the side of Morgan’s face before giving Peter a pointed look. “You’ll be okay, too.”

Tony’s more perceptive than anyone gives him credit for. Peter nods, scoots a little closer, and leans his head on Tony’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry that I upset you,” Tony says.

“Thank you.”

Tony snorts. “For what? Making you cry?”

It’s for a lot of things—too many for Peter to put into words. “Just, thanks.”

Tony laughs, but something on his face makes Peter think that he gets it. Morgan sees the laugh and her face breaks into a smile as well. Then it’s quiet and dark and calm and most importantly, the three of them—with no shaky hands or uneven breaths or tears. Tony shifts Morgan into Peter’s arms so that he can start a pot of coffee. It’s far from the first time that Peter’s held her but it’s always a little overwhelming. She seems so small and breakable, but she’ll grow and become a real person, and if Peter’s part of Tony’s family he guesses that he’ll be around to see all of it. 

Tony squeezes back in with them, an almost dopey grin on his face as he takes in the two of them together. It’s kind of—well, Peter might have to reassess the perfect thing. Or more accurately add a disclaimer. Life may never be perfect, but there are moments that are. This just might be one of them.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading :)
> 
> Find me on [tumblr!](https://peterparkrr.tumblr.com)


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